Thanks again to SJackson, whose real name is Mary Schmidt, for the Beer Run review. You all should look up Mary’s work. I recently read “Her Alibi” and it isn’t bad. Here’s the last part of our brief history of Pandemonium:

The 1970s and 1980s were periods of change for the city of Pandemonium.  Alister Grimsley began a reform within the Satanic Temple to dispatch with the need of a literal Satan.  Satan was now a metaphor for worldly success, and worship was merely a means to an end in this.  In modern capitalist society, there are better ways to achieve worldly power than sacrificing a goat at 3 am on a Sunday.  Witch society would concentrate on raising children to pursue ambitious careers with the same reckless abandon that Cramner and his followers pursued Earthly power on their own terms.  Most Witches were happy with this change, as few of them really believed in the existence of Satan.  However, as time went on, fewer and fewer of the Witches actually attended the Satanic ceremonies.  If Satan was not real, why was it necessary?  Those that did attend increasingly gave reasons such as “tradition” or “I grew up in this temple.”

            Following Whitfield’s death, the Strangers took a different tact.  The Witches’ faith was about Earthly power, which could be accomplished without any resort to worship at all.  The Strangers claimed to be a Christian church, however, and the rejection of their community by the wide Christian world left them deeply shaken.  In addition to this, a new study by Cramner University disturbed the Stranger community greatly.  In the hey days of the turbulent 1970s, the youth of the community started to engage in certain activities disapproved of by their elders: drugs, pre-marital sex, and loud music.  Researchers at Cramner did a survey of teenagers in the 1970s and found that drug use, sexual activity, and crime rates were higher among the Stranger youth than among the Witch youth.  Add to this the fact that the Stranger part of town became notorious in the same decade for hosting the town’s only pornographic theater, and the Strangers were forced to confront the question of what they really believed for the first time in 300 years.

In light of these developments, finding a replacement turned out to be more difficult than expected.  The elders of the church interviewed one churchman after another, but many expressed doubts about their faith similar to the Witches about whether God existed, whether God favored this church, or even if the Stranger Church deserved to exist.  After the negative reception that Pandemonium received in the 1950s upon the Witches’ coming out, recruiting an outsider for a pastor was virtually impossible. 

Just when it appeared that all hope was lost, a young man all the way from County Antrim in Ulster called the Stranger Church specifically to say he wanted the job.[1]  Surprised to receive aid from so far away but delighted to have an interested candidate, the trustees of the church invited Atticus MacDonald for an interview, paying for his flight.  MacDonald did not disappoint, as he aced the interview, indicating both a real grasp of theology and presence on the pulpit.  MacDonald began his life as a Presbyterian, but later in life entertained doubts about the doctrine of double predestination and soon had to leave the Reformed church tradition.  He had been educated at Trinity College in Dublin and had already served five years as a Presbyterian minister in Belfast.  This made him a perfect fit for the Strangers, as MacDonald was educated, experienced, and, in a stroke of providence, theologically in line with Robert Winthrop’s practical theology.  MacDonald had only one condition, namely that a male friend of his be allowed to come with him.  This made the elders somewhat nervous, as other religious communities had dealt with the issue of underground homosexuality among their clergy.  When they explained their reservations to MacDonald, he laughed and told them this was not the case between himself and his friend at all.  His friend, you see, had an unusual condition that meant he could not live just anywhere, but could only live on the grounds of a desecrated church.

            “A desecrated church?  What are you implying?” asked one scandalized elder.

            “Excuse me, sir, but as I understand your history, you built your church right on top of the ground where you burned that poor woman to death using the wood of the ship where you decided to commit that heinous act, did you not?” asked MacDonald.

            “Well, yes, I mean, our ancestors did that, but does that make our church desecrated?”

            “I mean no offense,” MacDonald said. “I only hope to do a favor for a friend.”

            MacDonald called in a disheveled, dark-haired young man wearing a black coat and grey scarf, beckoning him to introduce himself to the elders.  The young man called himself Theophilus, or Theo for short, though this was an assumed name, and he spoke with a noticeable but not thick Irish accent, unaffected by any Scottish influence, unlike his Orangeman companion.  He thanked the trustees for having him here and said that he and MacDonald were not “buggerers” as he called them, but rather very good friends who had been through a few scraps together.  Theo promised he would be out of the way, as he was content to sleep in the crypt.  His only requirement being the importation of a few crates of peat bog from “back home,” which he said would help him sleep. The Stranger elders discussed it amongst themselves, and agreed that while this was highly unusual, MacDonald was the best candidate, so as long as this Theo character kept to himself (and perhaps bathed).  MacDonald thanked the elders, and began as pastor in December of 1982.

            Of course, we must briefly consider the tragedy that occurred in Fieldhand church in 1979.  However, once again, this book is written for the purpose of strengthening civic pride.  Having been alive during those times and remembering the great anguish Pastor William Walker’s actions brought to this community, I would argue some things are best left unsaid.  I am sure Pastor Overstreet would agree about this.

            The Ze’ev had their own brief flirtation with fame when a camera crew from a local news station captured a Ze’ev transforming on camera, leading to a Ken Burns documentary about the now famous Ashkenazi sect.  Scientists flocked to Pandemonium to try to find some scientific basis for these famous transformations.  None has ever been forthcoming.  The Rabbi Maharam has speculated that none will ever be found as not everything is within the limits of human reason.

            Finally, this brief history must come to an end, so it may well come to an end with the Author, who succeeded Fr. Grimsley to the position of Satanic High Priest in March of 1997, a position he holds to this very day.  Much like Grimsley before him, the Author sees himself as less a servant of dark powers and more a caretaker of history, which is why he has decided to write this brief history.  Our ancestors’ practices may be offensive to us today, but we stand on their shoulders.

            If the reader fears for the Author’s immortal soul, he or she is entitled to such beliefs, but for what it is worth, the Author does not share the same fears.  He has attended Satanic ceremonies since his birth, either as a congregant or as a celebrant, and nothing has ever occurred. No possessions, no floating objects, no disembodied voices. Nothing happens.  There is nothing to fear, which is why if the reader is in town the Author invites him to our services every Sunday at 10 am.  Few believe in this sort of thing anymore, but the reader can witness a unique historical ceremony with deep roots in America.[2]  The Author, conscious of the fact that he has monopolized this brief history, will now allow the other religious leaders of the community have the final words.

Pastor Atticus MacDonald of the Stranger’s Church

            I thank my adversary[3] for giving me this space.  His decision to mention my friend Theophilus must sound strange to you, but Fr. Ravenwood has always held a small grudge against me for bringing Theo here.  Theo rubs some people the wrong way.  Fr. Ravenwood commonly refers to my friend as “he who lowers property values.” We at the Strangers’ church have taken it upon ourselves to try to convert Theo and convince him to wear a nice shirt every once in a while.  Alas, neither lesson has stuck, but hope springs eternal.

            I find no serious historical inaccuracies with Fr. Ravenwood’s brief history,[4] only a serious inaccuracy in his description of my theological opinions.  Fr. Ravenwood claims that I was selected for this position because my theology was similar to that of Robert Winthrop.  Nothing could be further from the truth for the very simple reason that I actually hold my beliefs.  Fr. Ravenwood’s brief history makes it clear the Winthrop did not actually believe what he preached.  This is what Fr. Ravenwood means when he says that Winthrop was not seeking to obtain some “metaphysical truth.”  Based on my conversations with him, Fr. Ravenwood appears to be a closer disciple of Winthrop than I am, though I do believe in a creed remarkably similar to the one Winthrop promulgated.  He may have taught better than he knew, which may also be said of the Drunkard. I have been the Pastor of the Stranger Church for 38 years and one thing I have tried to emphasize is that ideas matter.  The way we think the world is shapes the way we behave in it, or at least it ought to.  For this reason, I hope you do not attend Fr. Ravenwood’s service at 10 am this Sunday, or any Sunday.  Come to my church.  Come to Pastor Overstreet’s church.  Have coffee with Rabbi Maharam that Sunday morning.  Sleep in.  Whatever you do, don’t attend a faux worship service for the Devil.  I doubt he will appear, but what will disappear is an hour of your time, and for all you know you don’t have many of them left. Remember death.

Pastor Darrell Overstreet of the Church of the Tobacco Fields

            Throughout the South, people claim they are defending history.  History is important.  Fr. Ravenwood thinks history is important, and I agree with him.  What causes me dismay is Fr. Ravenwood’s insistence on retelling that history with vast holes in it.  Fr. Ravenwood tells the story of my congregation using the word “slave” only once.  The ship that brought us was involved in “Migration and Importation of Such Persons.”  The unconscionable cruelties of Beauregard Davis are given two footnotes.  Fr. Ravenwood says the Witches offered no resistance to military occupation, but skips over the March Massacre of 1888 where a Witch militia destroyed a thriving African-American business sector out of jealousy and hate.  Jim Crow is barely given word.  Fr. Ravenwood glosses over the long history of segregation and racial violence in this city, the legacy of which remains with us today. 

            Should we move on?  Our faith does not teach us to move on, it teaches us to forgive. Forgiveness, however, must be accepted by the guilty party, and the guilty party will often refuse forgiveness by failing to acknowledge they need it.  I actually know the Davis family quite well.  They are a good family.  I would say a friend of the church, though I have yet to get one of them to join.[5]  Their cooperation was invaluable in allowing Mr. Coleridge to write his book, giving him full access to the old plantation house.  I encourage any visitor to buy his book as a necessary counterbalance to this rosy, whitewashed history produced by Fr. Ravenwood.

Rabbi Maharam of Temple Ze’ev

            I thank Fr. Ravenwood for giving me this opportunity to welcome potential visitors to our town.  I invite all visitors to Pandemonium to come to the old Ze’ev marketplace and learn the history of a unique immigrant community whose descendants are living the American dream.  We are not the only Jews in the South, but there are few people who can say this unironically: Shalom y’all.  A great deal of this history is dedicated to our monthly transformation, which we received many questions about in the 1990s due to the Ken Burns documentary.  By now, I assumed it was old news.  Yes, if you come during a certain time of the month,[6] you can see quite a show, but that is only one part of our community. 

            One thing to note about Fr. Ravenwood’s brief history, namely the initial plan in 1970 to build the courthouse with only three doors: yes, we objected to three doors being too few while the Fieldhands objected to three doors being too many.  Somehow four doors was just right.  I remember that time, and I remember being insulted at the insinuation that we weren’t real Pandemonians.  Of course, Pastor Whitfield and Fr. Grimsley never meant to insinuate such a thing, they were just forgetful that’s all.  But it was important to correct, because identity is important.  Every man must ask himself, who am I? And because no man is an island,[7] most of the time this means asking, who are we?  The Ze’ev are both citizens of Pandemonium and people separate, set apart.  Thank you for your time, and if you do find yourself on our side of the island, I suggest David’s Chophouse, if you’ve never tried Jewish barbecue.

Statement by the Diocese of Charleston

            The Diocese of Charleston objects to the publication of this brief history at a time when no priest has currently been selected for St. Michael the Archangel parish.  We mourn Fr. Timothy’s death.  May eternal light shine upon him.  Any invocation of Satan risks summoning the demonic presence.  We condemn Fr. Ravenwood’s actions and any ceremony performed at the Second Satanic Temple to invoke Satan.  A new priest for St. Michael’s will be forthcoming.

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[1] He had heard about the job through an article in the New York Times centered on the now famous church’s troubles in finding a new minister.

[2] Subject to certain revisions over time such as the replacement of human sacrifice with the crushing of a bug.

[3] The term Satan means adversary, which is why it is so appropriate our communities have been at loggerhead for so long.  While the Red Devils may have won the last game, Winthrop leads the Blood Bowl series overall 68-60-3.

[4] There are no inaccuracies, but as Pastor Overstreet makes clear, there may be certain important omissions.  Many of the more elderly members of my church would no doubt blanche at Fr. Ravenwood’s rosy description of Col. Davis’s massacre of surrendering Stranger soldiers, but personally having found Col. Davis to be a more complex historical character than that action would demonstrate, better to leave certain things in the past.  

[5] As Pastor MacDonald says, “Hope springs eternal.”

[6] Get your mind out of the gutter.

[7] Did you like that?  I came up with it myself.